On Not Looking

Ed Ruscha

In the month post-Petrichor, i’ve had good days and bad, weeks where work issues push out thoughts of Colorado, nights where I wish I was curled up with an overgrown Frat boy with a brain as big as a tax-avoidance scheme, mornings where I feel sad as I shower. Tears when hugging my hot water bottle. A mixed bag.

I’ve not felt such a strong connection to a man, never felt such a sense of comfort in being around them. Being able to be me, not shrink, just happily co-exist and be acknowledged in doing so and appreciated for being me. I know what I experienced was rare, and although our time together was brief, I am glad I experienced something so new and wonderful, even as its loss has been upsetting.

From my brief glimpse into a very foreign land, I discovered that:

  • I really do have a type – brainy, brawny guys who are outgoing, taller than me and are not exactly bean-poles.
  • Confidence is as big a turn-on as intelligence and humour to this introvert.
  • I seem to like men who cry when sad.
  • Manfur is still awesomesauce.
  • Receiving compliments and verbal praise is hard at first but turns out to be all good.
  • It is possible that someone will like me as much as I like them.
  • Complete sexual fulfillment is actually achievable.
  • Someone being hands-on – holding my hand, kissing me in public, a hand on my knee at dinner, small displays of care and affection – blows my mind.
On a recent boozy weekend out with Caversham Princess and Bobby Convey an interesting observation was made – I see potential in people who haven’t quite realised it yet. I’d never thought of this. Are the outgoing men I find attractive always compensating for difficult/traumatic backgrounds? Is it that I see there’s a fragility amongst the jokes and self-assuredness? Is it the potential for growth I like, or do I need to fix people?

I don’t think I am into fixing. I love to help people, hence the career, but I don’t think that extends to intimate partners in terms of wanting someone to need me.

Bobby and Caversham also said I was selective, that it’s not me being defective and that perhaps love will come later to my life. I know i’m selective in both partner choice and employment choice (!), so the browsing of people that don’t tick any boxes, of four dates in nearly as many years is something that makes me feel down. So i’m not on any dating site, and have essentially given up on that front.

When I say that, what I mean is that it’s better to ignore what I have no control over and look after myself. That doesn’t mean i’m closing myself off, though I will admit there’s an element to that post-Petrichor, nor does it mean that i’m not going to feel sad, and that everything will be sunshine and rainbows. Better to focus on what does soothe me and bring happiness, as best I can.

Until someone else distracts me, there’s always going to be a longing to have Petrichor in my life and a sadness as a result. He is unfinished business.

Back to reading about Elizabeth Taylor’s life and loves methinks.

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